


The Wild Hunt

by kilaem



Series: Art Shorts [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fanart, M/M, The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 08:01:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17762897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kilaem/pseuds/kilaem
Summary: originally posted 05/08/2017





	The Wild Hunt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dexterous_Sinistrous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexterous_Sinistrous/gifts).



> originally posted 05/08/2017

Two years after escaping the Wild Hunt, Derek had all but given up hope in finding Stiles. He hoped that perhaps the moment he stopped searching, the world would thrust their entwined fates together once again and reunite them. The letter he received smelt of lilac and gooseberries, and it made Derek’s heart ache to smell it and not have Stiles pressing a smiling kiss to his lips.

It’s on the trail to Stiles that Derek is plagued by a dream of his sister Cora, pursued by the Wild Hunt once again, and he wakes knowing she is in grave danger. A coincidence? Perhaps. But when he finds Stiles and they must flee from the Hunt, it is an undeniable truth when Stiles reveals he has been searching for Cora, and intended to ask for Derek’s aid in tracking her.

It is not the reunion Derek longed for, the soft smiles replaced by sharp words and things unsaid, but still, it is like water to a man parched by thirst. There is no fear in his mind that Stiles’ feelings have changed, because he knows that after all the years, together and apart, they will be drawn back together. A wish is a powerful thing, as they both know. There is not much that could break it.

As Derek races across their war-torn world searching for his sister, determined to find her before the Wild Hunt can, he learns that there is something much larger at play. The fate of the world is in his hands, and only he will be the one to determine if the seed bursts into flames.

* * *

Derek remembered. He remembered Hale, the riot erupting and the massacre that ensued. He remembered the streets running with the blood of elves and dwarves. He remembered the pitchfork, the burn of the rusted metal. And he remembered Stiles.

Gods, how could he forget Stiles.

The cry of his voice as Derek fell, those beautiful eyes staring down at him, tears brimming but stubbornly refusing to fall. The burn of his magic, as he tried to knit Derek’s body back together as the humans gathered around them, the blood of seventy six non-humans coating their hands.

Derek remembered the worst noise of his life, right before he perished; a pained exhale, minuscule, one he knew all too well from his hunts, but to hear it come from Stiles, it was a nightmare he couldn’t escape.

But… It wasn’t the end. Waking up in a warm bed, a soft bed, Stiles holding his hand, he remembers wondering if this was the afterlife. Not quite.

He remembered Stiles, telling him of Cora and how she gave them this island, before she left. Another world, one free from this ruin, and her obligations. And he remembered how they just stopped counting time, because it didn’t matter.

Derek remembered the fire. The burning of their home, of their orchard, as the wraiths of the Wild Hunt destroyed everything they had come to love. How they ripped Stiles out of his arms, their bony hands unshakable. The blood in his veins, singing for him to return to reality, return to the Witcher’s Path. To get Stiles back.

He remembered the Hanged Man’s Tree, the spectral riders surrounding him and his companions. He remembered Stiles, chained and bound close to the leader, how his eyes pleaded with Derek to run.

The realisation that they were not wraiths, as they fell beneath the blows of their witcher’s blades, crimson blood flowing from under their dead men’s armour. That they could not kill them all, they were simply too many. A stalemate.

He remembered the decision he made, how he would’ve chosen it again and again, even when it was exactly what they wanted. Derek struck a deal. His soul for that of Stiles. It was agreed, without hesitation.

Derek remembered it all.

* * *

 

 

 


End file.
